


Yarrow

by thecullenlinguist (vilfaras)



Series: Parade of Liars [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, post-DA:I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilfaras/pseuds/thecullenlinguist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: Yarrow- cure for a broken heart</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yarrow

**Author's Note:**

> Yarrow- cure for a broken heart
> 
> From my in-progress Sovelyan fic's universe, can be considered as a headcanon I suppose. Presenting to you Moira Trevelyan. Written in the dead of the night like the setting in this drabble, so am pretty sure mistakes are plenty. Unbeta-ed!
> 
> Post- defeat of Corypheus

She found herself in his – a notion so deeply ingrained in her that she could not think of it as the _Inquisition’s_ \- rotunda one night while she wandered aimlessly around Skyhold after another bout of insomnia – which had plagued her incessantly for weeks ever since that day she had finally defeated Corypheus; the same day she saw him last and knew that unlike the instance with the Spirit of Wisdom, he would not return this time.

There was enough correspondences and meetings to attend to during the day to keep her mind off things; yet at night, when everything had fallen silent and most of Skyhold –even the birds, it seemed- had gone to rest; her work for the day completed and she had nothing else to do, she was left alone to deal with the onslaught of memories and thoughts that her traitorous brain forced upon her.

The veilfire’s green flames cast a faint light on the murals he had left behind. Moira was studying none in particular from her perch on the scaffoldings, eyes unfocused as she stared into nothingness, absentmindedly tugging at the blanket she had wrapped around herself before she left her quarters, and curled into herself more. She had avoided this part of the castle in the first few days; rejection still a fresh wound on her heart.

Now, weeks later, it was numbness she felt while she hugged her knees closer.

“You wonder why he left, and yet you know he would have, one day. Too much pain behind those steel grey eyes. What is it he hides behind them? I will not ask. He will not tell me. It is unlike the tales he shared to entertain me.”

Moira flinched mildly at the voice on her left. He was whispering, but in the dead silence his voice was still loud; echoing even.

“Hello, Cole.” She whispered back.

“Hurt. It feels like he took your heart away with him the moment you turned from him.” The boy went silent and tilted his head while he stared at the last unfinished mural. “He had not wanted to hurt you. Impulse. You shone so bright he couldn’t help but reach out; this dank, lonely darkness he had slept in for so long. It is selfish. I should not. She must not be pulled along.

Letting go burned him more than embracing you did. He was happy when he held you.”

She turned her head to Cole and rested her temple on her knee, her eyes trained on his pale face. Her silence prompted him to continue.

“You can’t let go either.”

Moira managed a tiny, fond smile at him. Hearing this, verbally from someone else was…much different than listening to her thoughts trapped in her mind. “People can’t let go of things in such a short time, Cole. Some take days, weeks; some take years.” And she paused.

“Some, never.”

“How do I heal the hurt?”

She pulled a hand out from her cocoon and reached out to Cole, and gently stroked his cheek.

“You can sit here and keep me company. I’m afraid there’s nothing much you can do, Cole. This is something I need to deal with on my own.” She withdrew her hand back into her blanket and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence.

Time.

Time was the essence, she decided. There is no cure for a broken heart, and the pain will perhaps never go away, but it would remain a part of her; a driving force like many other things that was and will keep her on her feet.

She was the Inquisitor.

There will be more sorrow to come her way as she treaded further down the path she could not steer away from; of a God-Killer, a messiah; a Herald, a figurehead.

Moira shifted her attention to the unfinished mural and suddenly Cole spoke again, however his tone sent a chill down her spine.

“I’m sorry, Cole. But with your gift, I fear that you might see the path that I now must walk in solitude forever.”

“Cole?” His eyes were blank, as if he was in a trance. Fear bubbled in her and she reached out to grab his shoulders.

 Her hands hovered midway when he continued.

“This fate is mine alone.”

Moira sat in stunned silence. Cole was projecting – no, repeating _his_ last words to him before he disappeared.

“Indeed, I would not wish it on an enemy, much less someone that I once cared for. Though you reach out in compassion, I must now insist that you,” the boy stalled for a moment, his eyes glassy as he swayed a little.

“ _Forget_.”

Her breath left her in a rush and she felt like someone had punched her in the stomach.

This was-

Ominous was an understatement.

Her eyes darted to the final mural and more questions poured into her mind.

T _his fate is mine alone._

_-I now must walk in solitude forever._

“I’m…what were we talking about?” Cole stammered slightly as he regained his consciousness. “Am I helping?”

Moira looked at him with parted lips, the words dead on her tongue as she scrambled to gather her thoughts. Pieces were clicking into places. The questions grew in number; the numb pain in her chest evolved into worry.

What was her _heart,_ always so melancholic, so distant when he thought not one was watching, up to?

The outlines of the vanquished Dragon and the Wolf recaptured her attention.

_Stupid, ridiculously fatalistic Egghead._

“Yes, Cole. You are.” She shot him a small smile and she stood up and shook the Charlie horse off her tingling legs; her eyes wandered to the untouched desk and the books on top of it. Everything was left untouched after his departure as if the rest had expected him to come back.

He was not coming back.

Not by his own choice at least.

At that moment she decided, if he would not come home; if he thinks he is alone, she will go to him.

She will search for her heart again.

 


End file.
